Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“You know there’s a whole wide world outside that cabin door,” I say, airing out my shirt while I lie on my bunk. “You can work out wherever you’d like.”
“I’m fine right here,” he says, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his brow.
Rock-hard abs greet me, and I flush deeper before returning to my book.
It belongs to Ethan. Thankfully, he brought back half a dozen paperbacks with him from Austin. Slightly overkill, but it was probably out of fear that I’d accidentally drown a few of them. He lined them up on the desk Sunday night and I perused them while he showered, proceeding to borrow the one that looked most interesting, a psychological crime thriller. He never officially offered to let me read it and I never asked, and yet when he sees me up here flipping pages, he doesn’t say a word.
Brought on by his antics last week as well as his new fondness for cabin-calisthenics, I’ve decided it’s probably time to start burning him up with desire too. I shouldn’t be the only one having to splash cool water on my face every time he finishes a workout. And so, we slide into an even more vicious cycle.
If before our game was to try to appear unaffected by the other person, now it’s morphed into Who Can Turn the Other On the Most. I “accidentally” leave the shower door open when I rinse off on Tuesday night. The door isn’t cracked so much that he can see me, just enough that the steam wafts out into the cabin and the sound carries easily: hands lathering skin from head to toe, water splashing against the tiled floor. It’s no surprise that when I cut the water and stroll out in a towel a few minutes later, he’s pacing like a lion.
When I arch a brow, he turns and slaps his hand against the front door so it swings open. Heavy footsteps pound on the porch stairs and then he’s gone for the next hour. It’s the best hour of my entire life, alone in that cabin, smiling fondly at having bested him.
The next day, I take scissors to a pair of jeans. It’s the pair that were too long on me anyway. Now, they’re denim cutoffs, and I’m every country boy’s fantasy come to life when I stroll around the cabin later. I wouldn’t dare wear them around the site. Outside these four walls, my goal is to assimilate. Here, though, in this cabin, I want Ethan dying a slow death.
“Do you like them?” I ask as I turn in a circle in the center of the room, trying to catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. “I can’t tell. Are they too short?”
He’s on his bunk, shirtless, reading. One arm is folded behind his head, the other holding the paperback up on his hard stomach.
“That depends. Who’re you trying to attract?”
His lazy words drip with disinterest and seem to hint that the “who” in that question definitely won’t be him.
I roll my eyes and head for the door, needing air. I seem to be starved for it lately.
Just before I step out onto the porch, Ethan’s voice cuts through the air.
“Don’t wear those shorts around the camp,” he says sharply, like the authoritative tyrant he is.
I’m just going for a short walk nearby, but he doesn’t need to know that.
I smile as the door claps closed behind me.
The following evening, I ask politely to borrow Ethan’s phone. I haven’t reached McKenna or my mom since the last time he let me borrow it and I’d like to make sure my mom got the check I mailed home. Again, Ethan says I can use it, but I only have as long as it takes him to shower. Truly, he wouldn’t know chivalry if it bit him in the ass.
“Fine, but make sure to wash every nook and cranny,” I say sweetly.
He grumbles something I can’t hear and then shuts the door. Thank God. If he started doing what I do, leaving that door cracked even an inch…well, a girl only has so much willpower.
I don’t dillydally once he’s in the bathroom. I sit down at the desk and call my mom, knees bouncing while it rings. She answers and I nearly explode with longing to be there with her.
“Mom, it’s me, Taylor,” I say, unsure if she saved Ethan’s number to her phone the last time I called.
“Taylor!” She leans away and shouts, “McKenna! Taylor’s on the phone!” Then she’s talking to me again. “How are you? I tried calling you all day yesterday but it never went through. I hate that I can hardly get in touch with you while you’re out there. It makes me worry.”
“Did you tell her we got the check?” McKenna asks in the background.